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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26022124">Simply a comfort</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinmukang/pseuds/Jinmukang'>Jinmukang</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Chicken Soup, DamianLovesHisGrandpa2020, Fluff, Good Grandparent Alfred Pennyworth, Nightmares, Sickfic, Tumblr Prompt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:22:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,700</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26022124</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinmukang/pseuds/Jinmukang</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's past the middle of the night, and a sick yet recovering Damian wakes from a nightmare. He treks from his room in a rare show of seeking comfort. However, Bruce is still out as Batman and there is no one else inside the manor tonight. </p><p>Alfred, of course, takes matters into his own hands.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alfred Pennyworth &amp; Damian Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>102</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Damian Loves His Grandpa Challenge 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Simply a comfort</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For the DamianLovesHisGrandpa2020 event on Tumblr. A challenge meant for creators to show the amazing relationship between Damian and Alfred to combat current comics mistreatment of both characters. It's been a year since DC killed off Alfred for the sake of giving Batman more angst. It's been a year since Damian's been blamed for that. </p><p>But that is ignored here. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Night terrors are not particularly a new event to occur within the walls of the Wayne household. In fact, it is far from being new. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alfred has known the sound of a voice waking up screaming ever since the first night Master Bruce was without his parents. He's known the sound of frantic footsteps heading to someone else's door to seek comfort ever since Master Dick was still young and new. He knows all the methods his charges will use to chase away the midnight demons. Whether it's Master Dick's need for cuddles, or Mistress Cassandra's desire for peace and quiet, or something in-between. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Master Damian is no different. The boy is a stubborn one, but one who is, well, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>boy</span>
  </em>
  <span>. A boy with a tragic upbringing and confusing relations to his own mother. A boy who's come closer to death than what Alfred can imagine. A boy who's dealt with the utmost disturbing villains Gotham has to offer. Of course he has nightmares. To think Master Damian didn't have nightmares would be to think the sky wasn't blue. It was a fact. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is why it did not surprise Alfred even the tiniest when he heard the pitter patter of feet near two in the morning. He had been making late night rounds, having just finished up manning the computers for Master Bruce and his patrol. It was a solo night for the Batman, no Robin to be seen because Robin has come down with quite the fever and cough and was banished to the forsaken realms of the <em>bench</em>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Regardless of the cough and slight fever, the boy's light, stealthy footsteps are never mistaken. Curious and a tad bit worried of why Master Damian would be out of bed so early in the morning, especially considering how quickly he passed out the night before, Alfred makes his way towards the master bedroom where the footsteps have sounded from. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once he reaches the destination, he frowns at what he sees. Master Damian is standing in front of the door, a blanket wrapped around his small frame and a black ball of fluff cradled in his arms. The cat notices Alfred first, his eyes glinting in the dark hallway eerily. Alfred </span>
  <em>
    <span>the cat</span>
  </em>
  <span> meows as the origin of his name approaches. Master Damian notices Alfred now, spinning away from the door with wide eyes, clearly wondering how Alfred could have gotten so close without the boy noticing. Perhaps the sickness. Perhaps Alfred knows a thing or two about moving silently. Perhaps a mix of both.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Pen… Alfred," the boy starts, and Alfred almost winces at the groggy, gravely tone to his voice. At least he corrected himself on the name. Master Dick has... had been rather persistent at teaching the boy that there's hardly a need for last names in this makeshift family. The boy is trying, which is endearing as much as it is heartbreaking. Alfred knows the boy misses his eldest brother, yet the most any of them can do is wait and pray for Dick to return to himself and come home when he's ready. Memories or not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Master Damian, you should be in bed," Alfred scolds instead of voicing any of his other thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy shifts, the blankets draping in his arms and around his shoulders shifting as well while the cat makes himself comfortable to the movement of his master. "I'm... Is father back?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Avoiding something. The boy is avoiding something. Alfred takes a closer look with an inconspicuous step forward. He doesn't look as sickly as the last time Alfred saw him. Perhaps, an early night was just what he needed to ward the fever away. Regardless of that, Alfred lifts a hand to check his temperature. Master Damian squirms slightly, but relents as Alfred does his work. The cat licks Alfred's wrist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Your father is finishing up a discussion with the commissioner," Alfred says as he mentally notes that Master Damian's temperature is still high, but not as high as it used to be. "Is there something that you needed?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, Alfred," Master Damian answers, biting his lip. Which clearly means, yes Alfred, he does need something, but he's new to seeking comfort. With Master Richard having cut himself out of the family and with Master Bruce not being the best with any kind of emotional confrontation between him and his children… Master Damian certainly feels as though he doesn't have many people to turn to. Masters Timothy, Jason, Duke, and Miss Cassandra are all wonderful siblings in their own ways, but Damian does not, perhaps, trust them yet with a nightmare or worry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Master Bruce isn't set to arrive for another hour at least. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>least</span>
  </em>
  <span> Alfred can do is make sure Master Damian doesn't feel alone until then. Nightmares, busy thoughts, or whatever it may be that has this thirteen year old child standing outside his father's door, clutching a fluffy blanket and a cat like they're both a lifeline. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alfred quickly and mentally considers his options. There's not much you can do when it's two in the morning and you're dealing with someone such as Master Damian. The boy doesn't respond well to open worry and affection. Master Richard was probably the only one who could really express just how much the boy meant to him without Master Damian responding with defensive outrage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, he doesn’t have to think too long. The sound of a grumbling stomach is hardly mistakable. Especially when he recalls quite clearly now that Master Damian had excused himself to bed earlier last night and skipped out on dinner despite Alfred’s protests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, would you like something to eat then?” Alfred asks, not mentioning the pink tinge to the boy’s cheeks that are not a result of just tapering fever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Master Damian takes a moment to choose his words. Alfred allows him to take that moment, because despite his young age, Master Damian knows how to take care of himself and he’s learned over the years that sometimes the best thing to do is to let others take care of you <em>for</em> you. Alfred is already planning the exact procedure he would use to heat up the leftover chicken noodle soup from the dinner Master Damian had skipped out on even before the boy finally answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a small and slow voice, Master Damain speaks as Alfred the cut nuzzles the bottom of the boy’s jaw with his head. “I do not wish to bother you...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Master Damian, you have <em>never</em> been a bother. Not three years ago, not now, and certainly never in the future.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But... you’re in your night clothes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alfred takes a moment to look down at himself. An odd sight he must be, in his nightgown like this. It’s a good thing he had decided to not wear his nightcap, it might cause mass hysteria. Who knew a butler could have comfortable pajamas he would wear at night time? The sacrilege.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of getting sarcastic with the young master, Alfred simply smiles. “Well, if Batman expects that I work the night shift, he must also expect I wear night clothes from time to time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And with that, Master Damian had very little to protest about. He had backed himself into a corner with his half-hearted protests and had left himself powerless to Alfred’s will. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That will include getting the boy fed and looking less like he had seen a ghost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which is more often of an occurrence in this household than one might think. Many ghosts have, do, and will roam these halls. Whether they be memories that haunt or actual spirits of the dearly departed, it really doesn’t matter either way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come along,” Alfred says before turning away. He does his best to not seem too visibly happy at the sound of light footsteps deciding to follow along.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t take too long to get from the door in front of Master Bruce’s bedroom to the kitchen. He sets Damian and his feline companion down at the counter with a glass of water as he opens the fridge and pulls out the container holding the left over chicken noodle soup. He fills a pan up with the cold soup and sets it over the stove. A microwave would be quicker, but a microwave would also soil the small details of food and is best left unused unless absolutely necessary. Those necessary times involve any time someone in this household is hungry for leftovers and Alfred isn’t there to prepare it himself. He will not trust a single member of this family, other than himself and perhaps Master Duke, within a meters distance of the oven, less he wants another kitchen renovation on his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Regardless of using the longer method for heating up soup, it doesn’t take all that long to turn off the burner and separate the steaming noodle soup into two different bowls. When Alfred takes the bowls into his hands and begins to walk out of the kitchen, the young master gives him a curious look but follows along nonetheless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alfred doesn’t go to the dining room. It’s too informal. Too cold. Alfred doesn’t normally allow food outside places that had been created for the purpose of food, but he supposes tonight can be an exception.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you mind fetching the trays, Master Damain?” Alfred asks when he. Steps into the family living room. Damian nods and sets the cat down so he can find the small, portable tables that are used on rare occasions. Normally on family movie nights that are filled with bowls of ice cream and bags of popcorn. Alfred places the bowls down on the tray that Master Damian sets before him and then sits down on the sofa. Ever so slowly, Master Damian lowers himself a considerable distance away from Alfred on the same sofa, already bringing a spoonful of soup to his lips as the cat jumps back into his lap and paws at his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alfred turns on the TV and sets the volume down to a just bearable level. “Anything you wish to watch while we eat?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Master Damian shakes his head, so Alfred lets the TV play what it has been, which seems to be old reruns of Mythbusters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sit like that for a while. Silence between them like a comforting wall of feathers. Easily broken, yet welcome to stay. Soon enough, the bowls of soup are left empty on the trays and Master Damian is left staring at the TV with distant eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alfred decides to speak up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you wish to tell me what’s on your mind?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Master Damian doesn’t respond. Not for a few minutes. Once again, Alfred lets him take his time to answer. It’s never good to rush the boy. He always comes to the right decisions in the end, even if it takes a while.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Master Damian tears his eyes away from the TV and gives a weak smile. “No thank you, Alfred.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well then, I’m happy to continue watching mindless television here if you’d like to join me for a little while longer,” Alfred offers, knowing better than to argue. Whatever must be bothering the young boy, it must be fading enough that the open emotional wounds have already begun to scab. Tonight, Alfred is not needed as a willing ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as company, and he is happy to oblige when Master Damian gives a small affirmative.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The marathon of Mythbusters continues in companionable silence. And somehow, in between one myth or episode and another, Master Damain had slowly ended up closer and closer to Alfred without either of them noticing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In fact, Alfred hardly made any note on how close up the child was until Master Damian’s warm head landed on Alfred’s shoulder with a soft sigh. With contained surprise, Alfred looks down to see Master Damian’s eyes closed, his childish features smoothed out to make him look every fiber his age that he was. The cat moves from the young man’s lap to make himself comfortable between both Alfred and Master Damian’s legs as they still sit side-by-side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cat yawns, rakes his claws in the fabric of the couch, then closes his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, to not wake either of them, Alfred reaches for the remote and turns the TV off, leaving the room in silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sleep tugs at his own eyelids, and somewhere at the back of his mind he knows it’s highly improper of a butler to be so... cuddly with a charge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though, Alfred has never been just the butler, has he.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. No he considers each child Master Bruce has taken in over these long years to be something like his very own grandchildren. Master Damian included without hesitation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alfred gently lifts an arm to shift the sleeping boy to rest more comfortably against his side. Alfred wraps his hand around the shoulder that’s furthest from him and gives a small squeeze that could certainly be considered a hug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are a good person, Master Damian,” Alfred whispers, something he’s always meant to say. He figures now might be as good as ever. “Do not let anyone tell you any different.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A slight, unconscious smile twitches on Master Damain’s lips. Alfred assumes it was the right thing to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a yawn of his own, he holds the boy to his side and allows himself to rub the head of the cat that carries his name and lean his head back onto the sofa. He closes his eyes, and he doesn’t stay awake much longer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-o-o-o-o-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alfred wakes to soft, yet heavy approaching footsteps. He himself hasn’t moved much from where he’s fallen asleep, but Master Damian is now completely curled up into his side, the cat having had moved to rest between the boy’s curled up legs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alfred?” Master Bruce calls into the room, his voice thankfully lowered into whispering territory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In here, my boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Master Bruce walks into the room and once his eyes land on his sleeping son, his footsteps immediately grow more silent, shock passing across his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is he okay?” Master Bruce asks, and Alfred responds with a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I found him looking upset. I decided to keep him company.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t need to do that,” Master... well, Bruce says back, looking guilty but he steps forward anyway to carefully gather both boy, cat, and blanket into his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alfred gives him a smile once he is finally released from being a thirteen year old’s pillow. “But it was my pleasure to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simple words spoken by a humble butler. But the message is easily spoken. It’s a dance he and Bruce have been executing since the first time a young, bright eyed child found his way under Bruce Wayne’s wing. Alfred the butler is so much more than a butler. The family of charges is so much more than charges. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alfred has a child of his own. A biological one at that. One he holds very, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> close to his heart. Yet, Alfred has been in the Wayne household long enough to learn over and over through the years that when it comes to family, blood hardly matters. It wasn’t long before Julia and Bruce and all of Bruce’s kids began to fill the same space in his heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Serving the family is his pleasure. Making sure a wonderful, unique, interesting young man such as Damian Wayne doesn’t feel lonely at night while his father and siblings are all out is his </span>
  <em>
    <span>pleasure</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He will do it no matter how many times he has to, even if he is not obligated to do so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce cradles Damian in his ams and gives Alfred a tired smile that says </span>
  <em>
    <span>I can take it from here</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Alfred nods and bids him goodnight. He’s alone for a few minutes. Simply left to his thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, when his thoughts begin to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>sleep</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he stands from the sofa, stretches his limbs, and walks out of the living room towards his bedroom, feeling more fulfilled and happy than what a normal butler would ever feel in their entire career.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Alfred certainly wouldn’t ask for it to be any other way.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you thought about the fic in the comments. Comments are literally my food. Pls I don't want to starve. </p><p>Also, before I go, let's all say it together:</p><p>*Clears throat*</p><p>Fuck Tom King and every other DC Rebirth writer involved with the character regression of Damian "he's a good boi" Wayne 💕</p></blockquote></div></div>
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